The Proverbial Woodpile

Years ago, when my oldest four were small, I had a homestead not the house pictured.  Although the house was modern, it was heated solely with wood.  Usually the job of bringing in firewood belonged to G.I. Joe and I, but one fall afternoon I decided to expedite the task by including the younger three as well.  The girls took to the task quickly, but Mr. Man had other ideas.  While the rest of us were heading out the door, that little rascal disappeared.  On my second trip back into the house with an armload of wood, I decided to investigate his disappearance I had assumed that he was looking for his chronically missing shoes and found him crouched behind his bed testing the "out of sight, out of mind" theory.  Unwilling to be punked by a four year old, I hustled him outside while he howled about the cruelty of forcing such a delicate individual out into the cold. 

By this time the wood box was nearly full, so I informed Mr. Man that the last two armloads of wood were his responsibility.  He continued to howl about the frigid temperature in the 40's while the rest of us filtered back into the house.  For the next ten minutes, I watched from the kitchen window as he stomped back and forth in front of the woodpile, kicking at the ground as he went.  With out any prompting from me, his brother went out and offered to help him, but was answered with a screamed, "Go away!"  About fifteen minutes into the saga, I went to stoke the fire and returned to the kitchen to see that Mr. Man was laying on top of the wood pile with his arms crossed defiantly, muttering under his breath.  Cracking open the kitchen door I heard his mantra, "I'm cold.  I'm cold.  I'm cold."  Returning to the wood pile, I explained the lack of logic in his protest.  If he would just bring in two arm loads of wood he could stay in the nice warm house for the rest of the day.  In response he added kicking  feet to the crossed arm, muttering pose. 



Hamming it up for the camera: Mr. Man (13) and G.I Joe (16)

 

Eventually, I did get my two arm loads of wood and Mr. Man was allowed shelter from the sub-Artic temperatures found in central North Carolina.  As cute and funny as this story is, as adults we really aren't any different than my stubborn son.  Human nature is to be  addicted to comfort.  Each of us has a well defined comfort zone.  When forced out of this zone we are often stubborn and defiant, unwilling to do the work required to get back to the place we feel safe in.

Those of us on a Pagan life path would probably all agree that peace and enlightenment of some form are major goals in our lives. We have an idea image of what we long to become, but we drag our feet when it comes to study and meditation. When life is busy or stressful we seem to balk at self improvement more than ever and that is when we need centering the most.  That is how we get stuck out on the wood pile when we would rather be snuggled up near the fire. 

Read a article about chakras or alternative medicine, take a quiet nature walk, spend a few moments breathing deeply and visualizing the person you want to be...Thirty minutes of focused "me" time every day will make a noticeable difference now and a life changing difference in the long run.  Every beautiful bird starts out as a humble egg. 

Thoughts On Motherhood

A Recent Photo of Miss Busy and I

There is a lot to be said for the stages of a woman's life.  Unfortunately, in our society the Maiden stage is idolized and moving on to the more mature and productive stages life is often feared or shunned.  Oh, being a Maiden is beautiful!  I love to hear the joy and optimism in my young Maiden's voice, but I also have no desire to be fourteen again.  A Maiden has troves of wonder and untouched beauty, but she also has a lot of learning to do and much of it will be painful. 

As a Mother, I feel I have come into my own.  I am currently carrying my sixth child and find myself to be more beautiful and confident than ever.  When I hold one of my children some of whom are now bigger than I am, I see how powerful and yet how small I can be at the same time.  I am the one who will provide the love that they need to grow and meet their potential, I am the measure by which they will gauge good and bad, and I am the one who's strength they will draw on.  Yet, with in all that power, I will still be unable to give them a perfect life and I am far from capable of  being  the perfect Mama I feel they deserve.  In my children I find both my honor and my humility.

As a Mother, I have learned that my body is amazing.  Before having babies, I had a body I was very proud of.  I was tall and lean, nothing except legs and boobs.  I never felt very beautiful, but I loved my figure.  When things didn't bounce right back after my first child, I felt somewhat like a failure and worked hard to get my shape back, but the babies just kept coming.  Then about the time my oldest was four he asked me, "Mama, why is your tummy so ugly."  I told him that the saggy skin and stretch marks were just the natural results of having children and he started to cry.  As he clung to me and apologized with his little heart absolutely broken over the damage he had done, I suddenly knew it didn't matter one bit.  I told him that he and his siblings were worth every single stretch mark  and I would not trade even a moment with one for them for my pretty tummy back.  That was the day I begin to make friends with my body.  Sometimes I still have a moment of insecurity, but then I remember that creating life is no easy task.  My body has worked hard and never failed to nurture and protect those I love the most.  My figure isn't perfect, but my body is. 

As a Mother, I learned to pick my battles.  My children are not here to be little reflections of me, make me look good, or to define my success as a human being.  My children are here to grow and learn and become the individuals they are meant to be.  It is very easy for many parents to view their offspring as little accessories and want to position them in whatever manner they will be the most flattering.  Sorry, but being a parent is not flattering.  It is often tiring and messy, but so very rewarding.  As long as my children are not behaving in a harmful way or being immoral, I see no reason to control their choices.  So what if Sassafras prefers camo to lace or Mr. Man chooses to wear long johns under swimming trunks to kindergarten?  They might not be following the status quo, but they are following their hearts.  By respecting them as individuals, I keep their hearts and minds open to my influence in the areas that really matter. 

I guess, over all it just boils down to...I love being a Mama.  Yet, as much as I love being the center of my children's world, I know the day is coming when they will move on.  G.I Joe keeps reminding me that he will be enlisted in a scant two years.  Then I will move on.  I will be the grandmother, the wise one, the crone.  It is a phase of life, I look forward to.  All in due time.